Michelle saw the raw need in Erik’s eyes, felt it in his touch. He was hurting and he wanted her to make it stop. She’d had hungry sex, grief sex, regret sex, and worship sex with him. It was time for them to have angry sex.
Desire licked through her body as she watched Erik rise from the bed and unzipped his trousers, pushing them along with his boxers down to his knees. Her eyes immediately settled on his thick shaft, rising menacingly from the dark curls at his groin.
Her heart began to pound against her chest and the familiar moistness settled between her thighs. She’d been subjected time and time again to his strength, his power, and the unrelenting passion with which he loved. And she should be afraid. But she wasn’t. She wanted him. She wanted him with every little neuron in her body. She was his wife and wives were supposed to ease their husbands’ pain. She would ease his pain. She would make right whatever wrong he thought she had done him.
“Erik what did I do to cause you such pain, to make you so angry?” she asked.
He grabbed her by the ankles and pulled her toward him, positioning her buttocks on the edge of the mattress and throwing her legs over his shoulders. “You knew it was possible and yet you said nothing.”
“What are you talking about?” Frustration inched through her.
He leaned into her, swung his hips and pierced her, forcefully pushing his way completely to the hilt. Michelle cried out as her slick flesh parted to receive him. She clutched at his shirt, her fingers digging into the flexed muscles of his arms as he filled her.
Dropping his body on hers, Erik pinning her to the mattress and began to move with earnest strokes inside her. He curled his fingers through her hair and held her soft mouth prisoner with his own as he pumped fiercely into her. Their grunts of lust filled the air. Their tears melded into a river of hopelessness.
Fire coursed through his veins at the velvety moistness of her clutching at him like a bloodthirsty parasite, sucking the very life out of him, pulling him toward the end of the universe. She wasn’t supposed to feel this good. She wasn’t supposed to be this delicious, this irresistible. His body had betrayed him, just as she had.
“How could you do this to me, to us?” His voice rang with pleasure and torture as he licked at her salty tears.
“Do what?” Michelle wrapped her arms around his neck, and sank her teeth into his shoulders as she was consumed with the conflicting agony of intense pain and primal desire.
“Your father killed Cassie.” He began to ride her harder.
Doom descended on Michelle. Her body tightened around him. He must be mistaken. Her father was a drunk, not a murderer. “Erik, it can’t be true. He left Manchester before—”
“He came back. And he ran her down with his car that night.” Rising upward, Erik pumped deeper into her.
The pleasure was so intensely passionate, they both became lost in the rhythm that melded their bodies together, even as their world fell apart around them.
With his groin locked securely to Michelle’s, Erik’s back arched upward, and when she saw his eyes close and his mouth convulse, Michelle knew he was near the edge. He wrapped his arms around her, and holding her tightly against his heart, he groaned then dropped his head into the softness of her throat. She felt the terrible trembling in his body as he growled then poured his ache, and his seed inside her. She cried out his name and exploded with him, their juices fusing in a cauldron of love and hurt.
The sound of Erik’s sobs tore Michelle’s heart to shreds. As her mind reeled with questions about the accusation he’d made about her father, she broke down and wept, for her pain for Erik was greater than any she’d ever felt from her father’s hands.
After a long while, Erik got up and pulled his clothes back on. He stood at the side of the bed and gazed down at his wife, the woman he loved.
Yes, he loved her.
But the image of Cassie dying in his arms yanked him back to the fierce reality. Michelle had lied to him. She had deceived him.
Michelle sat up in the bed and pulled the sheet around her shattered body. What they had just shared was nothing short of a desperate need for survival. They were both drowning and they knew it.
“I know you would have come forward if you’d know it was your father who’d killed Cassie,” Erik began in an unstable voice. “What I want to know, Michelle, is whether or not you suspected it could have been him.”
Michelle hung her head. She couldn’t bear the iciness in Erik’s eyes. Gone was the lust, the desires that had just obsessed them. “Yes, it crossed my mind the first time you told me about the accident. But after I did some checking, I realized it couldn’t be because he’d already left town when it happened. I didn’t know he’d come back. I’d already moved to South Carolina by then, Erik. I was gone for a year and a half. I didn’t even know about Cass… what had happened until you told me about it.”
Erik wiped his hands down his face. The smell of her lingered on his fingers. “Why couldn’t you have been totally honest with me? Why couldn’t you have just trusted me?”
Michelle pulled the sheet tighter around her body. “I was afraid of losing you. Afraid you could never love the daughter of a drunk seeing it was one who killed Cass… your wife.” She saw no need to tell him that the man who’d raised her, the man who’d killed his wife, may not even be her father after all. It didn’t matter. She’d lied. “Who told you it was… my father? How do you know it’s even true?”
He walked over to the window and turned his back to her. His voice was heavy with sadness as he told her what Detective Garret had told him.
Fresh tears sprang to Michelle’s eyes. Dwight Carter had taken the life of another human being—Erik’s wife, Precious’ mother. He had hurt the two people who meant most to her in this world. Then he ran because he was a coward. He’d always been a coward. That was his yoke to bear. Hers was that she should have been truthful with Erik from the beginning.
She pulled her nightshirt back on and walked over to where Erik stood staring out into the night that was as black and brooding as the shadows hanging across their hearts.
She hugged her stomach and rubbed her hands slowly up and down her arms. “You know what my father did to me and Robert as kids, Erik. You know he stole my money and wrecked my life. But what he did to your family trumps it all. He robbed Precious of her mother, and you of the woman you loved. For that I hate him even more, and I’m sorry for not being totally honest with you.”
Michelle gazed up at him. His lips were drawn into a thin line and his jaws were tight and hard. She wished he would say something. Anything. She swallowed. “I love you, Erik. I didn’t lie about that. You have to believe me.” She touched his arm. “How are we going to deal with this mess? How can we fix it?”
Her voice was a distant murmur. His misery a steel weight around his neck, hauling him into a sea of sheer despair. That bastard had hurt her, too. He so longed to make up for all the pain in her life, erase all her bad memories and give her the world. But the facts remained—her father killed Cassie, and Michelle had lied to him.
Erik pushed his hands into the pockets of his slacks. His fingers slid across the surface of the blue-velvet box containing the ring he was going to give her tonight. Panic tugged at his heart, and anguish spread through his stomach as he gazed at her. She was an angel. His angel.
He remembered the day she stormed into his house, into his study, into his life, and into his heart. Instinct had warned him to send her marching back down his driveway. He had known she would change his life forever, but he never expected it would be like this. He hadn’t wanted to be hurt again, to love again. But he did love. And he did get hurt.
And this was worse. This was so much worse than when he had stood in the cemetery, twenty-six months ago, and watched them lay Cassie’s body into the ground. This was worse than watching his little daughter weep for the mother she could never have again.
He remembered Precious’ tearful words as they left the cemetery to go back to their perfect house, on the perfect street, in the perfect neighborhood that wasn’t so perfect anymore, because Cassie Rebecca LaCrosse wasn’t there.
“Daddy,” Precious had cried as he wrapped her in his arms. “I miss Mommy so much. Why couldn’t you make her better, Daddy? You always make people better when they’re sick. I want my mommy, Daddy. I want her back.”
Erik remembered the pain in her wide brown eyes. He remembered the torture in her voice, and how she tried to be so brave throughout the memorial service because she knew her mother hated tears.
He remembered a whole lot of things, and he squeezed his eyes shut as tears of bitter regret seeped through his lids. This was the worst, because the woman he loved now had betrayed him. And by loving her, he had betrayed the memory of the woman he used to love. He was trapped in a cocoon of defeat with no way out.
There was no dealing with it. There was no fixing it. He could not build a life with Michelle knowing her father had killed Cassie.
“We can’t fix this, Michelle,” he said in a hollow voice. “It’s too big. We can’t go back, and we can’t go forward. You deceived me. I can’t ever trust you again. I can’t be around you.”
“Erik, we’re husband and wife. We took vows for better and for worse. We love each other. You can’t just toss us aside as if we never happened.”
He turned and gazed down at her, the hurt in his eyes tearing at her heart. “I don’t know who I married, Michelle, or with whom I fell in love. All I know is that you’re not the woman I thought you were. It’s a good thing no one else knows we’re married, especially Precious. At least she’ll be spared the pain of losing another mother.” With that, he turned and walked out of the room.
The finality in his words was so debilitating that all Michelle could do was waddle back to the bed and lie down on it. She curled up into the fetal position as deep moans came from the darkest, deepest parts of her soul.
Dwight Carter had completely destroyed her life this time. There was no climbing out of this pit. There was no escaping the anguish that would plague her for the rest of her life. Her father had finally killed her last glimmer of hope.
She dragged her body off the bed, across the floor, and into the bathroom. Her heart was as heavy as lead as she stood under the shower sprays and somehow managed to wash Erik’s scent from her body.
It was almost dawn when she finally descended the stairs and roused a disgruntled Yasmine from sleep. Her dear friend asked no questions. She just held her while she cried, then helped her into the car. Michelle sat silently on the ride to Manchester, huddled against the door, feeling cold, shaken, and so alone.
***
Three days later, Michelle finally mustered up enough courage, and borrowed Yasmine’s car to go back to Erik’s house for the rest of her clothes. For three days, she had been calling, and each time he picked up, he’d just remain silent, listening to her begging, pleading, and apologizing. At least he hadn’t hung up on her, nor had he blocked her calls from his cell or the house. That alone told her that he still cared about her in some way. It gave her hope.
Dwight Carter was in jail waiting to face charges on first-degree manslaughter, fleeing the scene of a crime, theft, and for driving while under the influence. And she was left to, once again, salvage the life he’d ripped apart. Robert had stopped by yesterday to talk about what he’d discovered about Dwight, but she was in no mood to discuss him. The damage was done. Whether or not, Dwight was their biological father was not important at the moment. What mattered was that Dwight had killed Erik’s wife, and she’d lied to Erik about him.
Her lies, not Dwight, had torn them apart.
Michelle felt a powerful throbbing in her head as she got out of the car and looked up at the house. Memories of the first day she set foot on this property assailed her.
She recalled, vividly, the first time she saw Erik, sitting behind his desk in the library, all virile, potent, and dangerously male. She remembered the sharp brilliance of his piercing eyes, and how her heart had lurched as her female hormones had soared to an all-time high. It was definitely love at first sight.
As she walked up the stairs to the porch and rang the doorbell, Michelle tried to control the shivers that ran through her. This was probably the last time she would set foot in this house. She hoped Precious was home from school. She longed to see her. She wondered how Erik had explained her absence, and the fact that she wouldn’t be her nanny anymore.
Erik might not want her in his life, but at least she had Precious, and in spite of what might happen between her and Erik, Precious would always be a part of her life. She would not turn her back on her.
“Michelle, sweet child.” Mrs. Hayes opened wide arms and Michelle fell into the motherly embrace.
“Hi, Mrs. Hayes. How are you?”
‘Don’t worry about me, honey. I want to know how you’re holding up under this mountain of trouble. I pray day and night to the Good Lord to lay His mercies on you.”
“Thanks. I need all the prayers I can get.” She glanced warily around. “I came to get the rest of my stuff. Is Erik here? I didn’t see his car in the driveway.” She was actually surprised he hadn’t packed them up and mailed them to her.
“He went to get Precious from her music lessons.”
“How is Precious?” she asked, her heart aching with longing for the child.
“She misses you. She cries for you every day. I don’t understand why the doctor is punishing you for what your father did. You had no part in it.”
“He knows that,” Michelle defended her secret husband. “He’s just hurting. I should have told him that my father was a drunk and a possible suspect. I can’t blame him for feeling betrayed. You, Robert, and Yasmine warned me that my lie would backfire. I have no one to blame but myself.”
“Give him time,” Mrs. Hayes said, touching a cool frail hand to Michelle’s cheek. “I’m sure he’ll come around and realize how important you are to him and Precious.”
Michelle stared at the older woman who’d brought her into Erik’s life, and wondered just how much she knew about Erik’s and her relationship. She was certain she didn’t know they were married, but did she know they’d been intimate? “Maybe he will,” she said, “and if he doesn’t, I’ll have to live with it.” Needing to escape the wise woman’s scrutiny, she headed up the stairs.
Michelle packed hastily, trying not to think about the life she was leaving behind. As she opened the walk-in closet and gazed at the dress she had worn to the party in Boston, sweet memories of her one-night honeymoon echoed in the black stillness of her mind. Memories were all she had now. Nothing would ever erase those feelings of completeness, of oneness with Erik.
For once in her life, she had been truly happy. She would cherish those moments forever.
Leaving the dress where it was, she turned and gazed at the bed where they’d made love. Erik might try to make himself believe that he hated her, she thought, but deep, way down deep in her soul, she knew he cared for her. The way he had cradled her in his arms after the passionate storm was over was all the evidence she needed. She would cling to that thought.
Michelle was halfway to the door to load the suitcase into the car when she heard Erik’s car come to a stop in the driveway. Her stomach clenched and her body broke out in a cold sweat.
The key rattled in the lock. The suitcase fell to the floor with a loud thud. The door opened, and his muscular, irresistible frame came walking through it.
Michelle froze as her eyes caught and held the piercing ones of her husband.
